Special Death
by YouSentMeFlying
Summary: After the death of her father, Imogen begins seeing a hooded figure coming out from the shadows. Is there a disguised killer among the students at Degrassi? Several innocent lives are put at risk.
1. prologue

**Anyone up for a new Degrassi horror story? **

**This fic is clearly rated M for – strong language, strong and gruesome violence, sexual content/situations, and drug/alcohol abuse. **

**There will be more characters coming in later on (such as Eli, Drew, Adam, etc…) so bear with me. It is, after all, only the prologue. **

Under the bed, surrounded by the depths of darkness was one of a child's biggest fears. Every kid – at some point in their young lives – would tremble underneath the covers in the cold night in fright; waiting. Waiting for the most petrifying creature they could come up with in their minds to come out and play.

The deep darkness of each little boy and girls' bedrooms would creep in around them; suffocating them with the chilled venom that shot through their poisoned veins. The tap of scattering feet would sprinkle across the floor, hoping they would be fast enough to make it to their parents' room in time. Before the repulsive demon they've illustrated in their creative imagination was picking the flesh from between their jagged teeth with the child's blood-drenched bones.

By the time they were teenagers, the remembrance of these actions were just a mere part of the past – to hardly be spoken of again. Not with Imogen Moreno, though; who thought about her under-the-bed demons daily; every awaking moment of her life. Because what Imogen's fears were as a kid were her reality. They were present all the time, observing her from afar, living inside her head and controlling her thoughts – they would sneak out from the midnight mist to attack.

Blink once, they're there right before her eyes. Blink again, they disappear somewhere into the dark abyss, or perhaps the raging fire of hell. And that's where they needed to remain – Imogen couldn't keep running from them forever. She felt as though she was holding onto the memories that once scarred her entire family when she was only a few years old.

A murky hooded figure slinked out from behind the sea of moss-covered trees; a deteriorated noose – which was tied almost perfectly – hung from one of the higher branches of a thick maple. This was the precise location of which Imogen's father hung himself after developing grave paranoia. He'd frequently go on a tangent about a 'skeleton man' following his tracks, and appearing in his nightmares. Imogen's father lost it one night, and sliced a blade straight through a police officer's stomach during one of his deliriums. Hours later, he was driven into a sequence of hysterics, which directed him into committing yet another elimination – himself. To this day, the faded rope was still dangling from the root of the branch, for mainly just the remembrance of Imogen's dear father.

Ever since the night that he died, this hooded man followed Imogen around everywhere. She would always have the same recurring nightmare of the man chasing after her frantically, but she would wake up just before she could reveal his face from beneath the dark hood. In this dream, the demon would always bellow out an incantation of sorts:

_Unleash the wrath of the Devil!_

_Shower down each and every drop of blood from the sacrificed tongue until the nakedness lie frozen!_

_Avete Satan dominus meus tenebrosa! _

Imogen's eyes peeled open; being awoken by the smack of something hard flinging itself to the side of her face. She was sleeping over at her best friend Bianca's house and must've fallen asleep in the middle of that cheesy slasher film last night. She stretched out her joints, her shoulders popping noisily from falling asleep in an uncomfortable position the previous night.

At her right sat a black, athletic basketball shoe; size 11. This must've been the item that hit her in the face, causing her to jolt awake. "Jose," she groaned before looking up to see the shirtless male standing in the bedroom doorway. Jose DeSousa was Bianca's older brother; he and Imogen had known each other since they were young kids, and always bickered back and forth to hide their noticeable feelings for one another.

There were many explanations as to why the two of them had never tried working something out. First, Jose was afraid to settle down to one girl; he hated commitments. Ever since he lost his dad – who was fighting for his country – Jose found it hard to risk getting close to anyone again. He didn't want to hurt any worse if something were to happen.

Second, Imogen never considered herself to be a pretty girl. She knew she could never have a chance with someone as charming and good-looking as Jose, who should be embarrassed to be seen with a girl like Imogen.

And then there was Bianca, of course. The two of them knew Bianca would be utterly pissed off if her delinquent brother and closest friend were to get more comfortable with each other. She would constantly be the third wheel, and feel left out in just about anything Imogen and Jose would do together.

"You've been sleeping all day," said the piece of sex on legs before placing a Miami Heat snapback atop his head. "Time for dinner, beautiful," he grinned; noticing Imogen's violently tangled bedhead.

If it was dinner time already, it must have meant Imogen was asleep for nearly twenty hours – she never slept that much if it killed her (literally). She was normally one of those who fell asleep late, and woke up before the sun began to make its peak above the horizon.

Imogen made her way down the enchanting staircase lazily, not bothering to make herself look half-way presentable; she honestly didn't care at this point. All she wanted to do was give up – she was going crazy like her damn father, and she didn't know how much more of this she could take before she finally broke down.

All her life, Imogen has had to deal with these terrors continuously hanging over her head. How could her daddy be so egocentric to leave her alone like this? She was always his little girl, and frankly, him dying was still one of the toughest heartbreaks she had to face each day. She loved her dad more than her own life.

The DeSousa family encircled the dinner table, their heads bowed, and their hands joined together in prayer. "_Bless us, Oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen._" They all spoke in unison as they prayed to their All Heavenly Father.

All of their heads rose at the same time to be met with Imogen's weary eyes, as she lugged herself to empty chair which sat between Bianca and Jose. Despite the amount of apparent sleep she had the preceding night, she felt like she hadn't rested in weeks – nightmares always seemed to drain her of all her energy.

"Imogen, hunny, didn't you want to comb your hair?" asked Ms. DeSousa before shoveling a forkful of noodles into her mouth.

Imogen wobbled her head back and forth in response; she sprinkled parmesan cheese over her spaghetti. "I was so excited to get a bellyful of your delicious food, that I totally forgot," she lied. The truth was, she was so miserable and exhausted that she couldn't even find the strength to brush out her tangled-mop. She wasn't looking forward to getting ready for school tomorrow at all.

Bianca cleared her throat, setting her new iPhone down on the table. "Have you guys heard about this disguised serial killer going around Toronto?" she questioned her beloved family curiously. "A student from Degrassi went missing last night – never came home – they think it was this '_masked demon_'."

"I didn't see anything on the news," Mrs. DeSousa replied. "How did you hear about this?"

"It's all over Twitter."

Imogen stayed quiet, hunched over her food as she weakly gazed into the bowl of stringed noodles. Even though she hasn't eaten a single thing in a week, she didn't feel all that hungry.

"According to this account I follow, it's a male robed in a long, black hoodie." Imogen's head snapped up to listen closely to what Bianca was saying. This man sounded precisely like the one she saw in her dreams, and caught sulking out from the hazy shadows. "There are pictures, but his face is shadowed in every single one of them; they have no leads yet."

"Show me a picture," Imogen demanded. "Now."

Jose stared at the girl and lowered his fork, sensing that there was clearly something wrong.

Obeying Imogen's request, Bianca lifted her phone again to scroll down her twitter timeline. The table grew silent, all eyes on the two girls while the older brunette flipped through hundreds of tweets. Finally, she tapped on a photo link and zoomed in on the masked killer.

Imogen snatched the phone from her, her mouth gaping open as she stared at the photo of the creature. "Oh my god," she gasped. Her body trembled, and her stomach began to grow queasy; probably from not eating a single thing in over six days. "I'm gonna throw up."

In the picture, a man was hiking out from behind a tree in the ravine. His face wasn't visible, but he was holding what looked to be a sneak knife covered in blood. How could the demon in her head be real? Here she was, thinking she was losing her ever-loving mind, when what she was seeing was everyone's reality.

"Do you know who it is?" Jose wondered.

"Not a clue," she responded. "But whomever, or whatever, this is can be dangerous."

"Obviously," Bianca scoffed. "It's killing people, for fuck sakes."

**Yay! I'll start working on chapter one later tonight, so that should be up soon. I have a lot in store for you guys, so I really hope you're in for it. ;)**

**Happy Reading. **


	2. paranoid

**Finally, the first chapter. :D I had fun writing the first scene, though I cut some of it out since there were too many hints given. I still want you to guess who the killer is. (they may or **_**may not**_** appear in this chapter.)**

The ominous, gloomy sky canopied over the murky forest; not even the vibrant orange glow of the moon could brighten up the trail.

Clare was texting her boyfriend Jake, not watching where she was going. Sticks and fallen tree branches were at her feet with every step she took, but she was way more interested in what time Jake would pick her up for their date. Little did she know, she would never make it to this night out that they've been planning for the last several months.

Clare's breath caught in her tight chest as she rustled around the forest floor, which was showered in a carpet of fallen leaves; ready for autumn.

She would take shortcuts through the ravine each night after her shift at the Dot. Tonight was the only evening she felt like she was being followed.

Her body thrashed around, the deep sound of a taunted laughter echoed behind her, followed by a female-like shriek. Maybe she had been watching too many horror films lately and they were messing with her mind, but she needed to get out of here nonetheless. She shook the thought out of her head, though; making a mental note, reminding herself to skip the horror movie marathon that was on Chiller tomorrow night.

The fatigued girl leaned back against a mushroom covered tree, regaining her breath as she let the dusky ambience close in around her heaving body. She brushed her damp bangs out of her flushed face; she squinted through the darkness between each tree trunk. '_I'm never watching another Jason movie,_' she thought. After a moment or two of watching a spider weave a new web, Clare decided she was rested enough to continue home.

The sound of a twig snapping far to her left made her jump.

"It's just in your head," she whispered to herself, walking faster through the long trail of trees which seemed to be never-ending. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored the last text she would ever receive to feel her way around the moss covered trees. Was the ravine always this damn huge?

A loud whistle shrieked over the top of the trees, birds flailing away in packs, as though they were trying to escape from something malevolent in their presence. The song chimed through the forest again, forcing Clare to shiver in fear now; there was definitely someone trailing behind her. "I-is that you, Rue?" she muttered lowly, trying to calm herself down. Being in The Hunger Games would be less terrifying for her than this was right now – she figured she could fend for herself in those games.

Clare gasped when she heard a loud bellow being torn out of a man's throat someplace behind her. But in these woods, it wouldn't surprise her if it was echoing from up in front of her; wind carries out here.

She picked up the pace, running hurriedly as she whipped her arms at her sides; her feet pounded on the solid ground.

Her legs pressed faster, beating around several trees and branches that were in her trail. She was hoping she wouldn't be as stupid as those girls in horror movies that were clumsy enough to trip every five minutes.

She continued to run until she could finally see a glimpse of the moon shining down at the end of the trail; headlights of a few cars rushed passed the exit and she knew she was moments away from a sweet escape. As she sprinted down a steep hill, she felt her frame being smacked into something hard. This almost made her stumble back and lose her balance, but she steadied herself before she could hit the ground.

A dark figure stood before her, its blazing eyes glaring down at her. Clare laughed pathetically, recognizing the individual as a friend from school. "It's just you," she spoke half out of breath. "You had me scared for a minute. I thought some masked murderer was chasing after me."

Clare leaned back up against another tree, attempting to catch her breath once more as she observed the cloaked figure retrieve something from inside their robe. A large knife positioned in the figure's hand glistened under the moonlight. "What's that – a knife?"

"It's a cleaver!" the shadowed being shouted as they swung the sharp object back. Before Clare could object to the matter, the knife was thrown forward.

A loud shriek escaping Clare's chest echoed over the ravine, not a single soul around to hear her cry out.

xxx

Imogen slipped through the halls of Degrassi, already running late for her first class of the day. She was passed out for several hours last night, but she felt like she hadn't slept in weeks. She yawned, shutting her eyes tiredly as she made a sharp turn around the corner.

The day had just started and she already had to listen to bystanders go on about another girl going missing late last night. Was it too hard for Imogen to have a normal life? Or was that too much to ask for in her ridiculous reality? People undoubtedly wouldn't even talk about her if she went missing.

As she turned around another corner, she felt herself being slammed into a built upper body, nearly knocking her off balance. Her eyes flicked open; she was met with a pair of innocent emerald orbs. "You scared me," she sighed in relief when she realized it was only Eli.

"I know, I look downright vile," he remarked, referring to the deep purple bruises under his eyes. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Me neither," Imogen lied. "Why aren't you in class?"

Eli and Imogen have been close friends ever since he first moved into town. A bunch of seniors were bullying him about being a curse on Degrassi, and Imogen was there for him. They both developed strong feelings for each other over the last year he's been at the school, but they were both too afraid of taking the next step. Though, Imogen was basically in denial about the crush since she's been waiting on Jose for so many years.

"I'm skipping," he shrugged like it was no big deal. Eli spent more time ditching class than he did in a classroom. He was like a tourist. "You up for a coffee run?"

"I would love that," she moaned.

Eli gestured his arm out toward an emergency exit door which was always left unlocked. "After you, milady."

Imogen stared at his pale arm; her chocolate brown eyes locked on a red blotch staining his skin. "Is that blood?" she interrogated heavily. The empty hallways spun around her frantically; she began to grow lightheaded. Whenever she even saw a hint of blood, she was always questioning societies about the stain. Imogen has never been good with blood – especially since the incident with her father at a young age; that kind of event can scar a person. "I swear to God, Elijah, if you're the one who has been following me, I will end you," the petite girl growled. "I won't think _twice _about forcing a knife through your goddamn throat."

Eli thought she was about to tackle him and pin him back against some lockers.

"Yeah, no, I just had a nosebleed earlier." He lifted his forearm to his pursed lips and snaked out his plump tongue; he licked the flesh clean.

The girl rubbed her eyes and looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "Sorry. Paranoia, you know?"

"I kind of like feisty Imo. Hot," he smirked.

The two headed toward the exit, Imogen's head still spinning around her as she tried to calm herself down once more. What was this _masked demon _guy doing to her? She couldn't wait until that fucker was caught and taken in by the police.

xxx

The sun was just setting behind the sea of trees; a bright pink and orange gold shine peaked through the branches.

Imogen shut the door with a heavy sigh, and turned to her mother who was cuddling a bottle of booze on the couch. Mrs. Moreno never used to drink; that is, until her husband drove himself utterly crazy and committed suicide. Her drinking problem was never much help for Imogen, especially during the start of the grieving process. Mrs. Moreno never even properly got the chance to watch her little girl grow up to be a beautiful young lady.

The worst part was, it was almost like she didn't have a daughter anymore – she pushed Imogen away so she could dedicate herself to a bottle (or two) of Jack Daniel's. When was all of this going to end? Her own daughter hated to be around her.

Imogen tried to sneak upstairs, but her mother caught one of the floorboards creaking. For a drunk, she had incredible hearing. "Oh, Imogen, honey?" she slurred as she attempted to twist her neck back to face her beautiful daughter. "Mommy has a headache – could you cook dinner tonight?"

It wouldn't be any different from any other night. "Is there anything in particular your Royal Highness would like?"

"Chicken Cordon Bleu drowning in a delicious wine sauce?" the older woman suggested.

"Kraft Dinner it is," Imogen responded flatly before dragging her feet across the hardwood floor.

As she entered the kitchen, she found herself throwing out a couple empty Jack bottles before attempting to start making dinner. It's become more of a habit –rather than a chore – for Imogen to clean up after her mother who was clearly unable to take care of herself. "Did you remember to pay the bills this week?" Imogen tossed another bottle into the trash bag on the floor.

Weren't the parents supposed to be responsible for their children, not the other way around?

"The envelopes are right there on the counter," Mrs. Moreno replied, reaching for a plastic holder of Tylenol.

Imogen hummed to herself and collected all of the items she needed to cook dinner. That coffee date with Eli this morning was one of the most relaxing hours she's had in a while. It was tough trying to juggle school, a part-time job, and practically being a housemaid at the same time. Too bad she couldn't be at three places all at once; it would make her life slightly easier.

She dumped the raw noodles into the pot of boiling water and started to stir it around, watching the bubbles sizzle in the water. It was like she was staring into the boiling water for well over ten minutes before she turned away. Zoning out all of the time like this can't be healthy at all. Perhaps it was those new anxiety pills she was on that made her feel this way.

Mrs. Moreno called from the living room, "I almost forgot!" Imogen left the stove unattended to go see what her mother needed this time. "There was a young boy here from your school here earlier; left something up in your room."

"Who was it? Eli?"

Mrs. Moreno shrugged. "He was sort of tall, and he had his hair slicked back in the front. Nice boy, very handsome. I think he mentioned his name being Drake."

Imogen laughed, tidying up the mess on the coffee table a little more to make the house seem somewhat decent. "That would be Drew."

"New boyfriend, eh?" Mrs. Moreno took another long swig from the plastic bottle; it went down warm, as she liked it. "You know I don't approve of dating."

"He's just a friend from school," she rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna go up and see what he left. Keep an eye on dinner." Imogen tied her long hair up with an elastic band and made her way up the stairs.

What in the world was Drew Torres dropping off at her house? They've only spoken few times in the hallway recently and have grown distant over the last few months. Whatever it was must not have been too important, otherwise he would have grabbed her at school.

She tiredly glanced over her bedroom before noticing a folded note lying in the middle of her perfectly made bed. She reached down to grasp the paper between her fingers.

In the middle of the page, black and white typewriter font read;

"_Imogen,_

_You didn't think you would get away from me so easily, did you?_

_I've been watching you._

_And I have a little preposition for you. _

_Every last one of your friends will die if you don't figure out who I am._

_Easy enough, right?_

_I've been waiting years for you to see my face._

_But you already know me._

_And I know you._

_I know you better than you know yourself._

_Don't think you'll be so lucky when I get to your last friend._

_You're last on my list._

_Don't hold your breath._

_Not for too long, at least._

_Remember, I'm always watching._

_Always there._

_Good luck._

_ -your worst nightmare"_

Imogen shuddered; she bent back the bottom of the paper to where a lock of curled auburn hair dropped to her feet.

**If you didn't figure it out, the hair is from Clare's dead-ass head. =P yes.**

**That Kraft Dinner mention is making me want to make some, so… lemme go do that.**

**Oh! And if you don't review, the 'masked demon' will be slinking out from the shadows tonight, observing you. ;) **


	3. murder tonight

**I was going to make this longer but I figured it was already long enough. =P And I wanted to update tonight so I could be lazy and watch the Degrassi marathon. So here is chapter two. **

"Tell me what happened that night!" Imogen screamed to her drunken mother. "I need to know, please." Tears began to sting at her eyeballs as she squeezed a blood-soaked tissue in the palm of her hand. She was awoken in the middle of the night to a severe headache, blood spilling out of her nose.

Imogen's been having nightmares again, and she knew it was the fault of that note; whoever wrote it was purposely trying to fuck with her mind. It wasn't Drew. She knew it wasn't. After destroying her room in a rage, she found a single white rose with a small card tied to the stem at her bedside. This was what Drew left for her, not the terrifying letter atop her torn blanket.

"Your father was a disturbed person, Imogen Rose," Mrs. Moreno shook her head, memories of that night flooding back to her. After all these years of drinking to numb the pain, it seemed like she could never escape the remembrance of her deceased husband – she would never move on from him.

"I just need to know!"

"Why?" Mrs. Moreno snapped back. "Why is this so important to you?"

"He was my fucking father," Imogen growled between clenched teeth. "I'm going to find out the truth sooner or later; why is it so hard for you to talk about him?" she paused for a minute, not letting her mother answer the rhetorical question. "I was six years old when he died. Ever since then I've been having these dreams – the exact dreams I remember him telling me about! You don't think there's some kind of connection between the two?"

Mrs. Moreno cackled pathetically. "I _think _you're a crazy and senseless failure just like your dad was," she remarked; gulping back a swig of Jack. She couldn't even look at her own daughter tonight. First, she woke her up at three in the goddamn morning, crying about some pathetic nightmare. And now she's hassling her for more information about the suicide of her high school sweetheart. Imogen didn't deserve the roof over her head, let alone the right to speak.

"And you can't put a bottle down for two seconds to listen to me! A drunk telling me I'm a failure? That's a new one."

With a quick flick of the wrist, Mrs. Moreno found herself flinging the bottle of Jack toward her daughter's head. Luckily for the both of them, the bottle flew past Imogen's head and shattered against the wall behind her. The sharp glass showered to the hardwood floor, along with the cold rush of alcohol. Imogen scoffed, "now I have an idea why my dad killed himself."

"Never mention him to me again, you hear me?" she scolded. Imogen just stood there. "I said _do you hear me_; yes or no?"

"No," she responded coldly. "You can't tell me not to talk about my own father."

Mrs. Moreno stared at the child in disgust, shooting daggers with her blazing eyes. "Clean this mess up," she gestured to the broken glass on the floor. "I expect you to have a better attitude after school tomorrow. This conversation is over." She turned to head toward the stairs with a stumble, holding onto the wall as she swayed back and forth to make sure she didn't fall to the floor.

Imogen crossed her arms over her stiff chest. "You'll be damn lucky if I come home tomorrow night," she muttered under her breath.

xxx

Being careful not to wake up her mother, Imogen tiptoed down the creaky basement steps. It was still late, but there's no way she could get back to sleep – not until she could find something to relieve some of her stress. Times like these, she really wished her father was here, but then again that would probably mean these dreams would still be haunting him. Imogen would rather suffer, than have her dad feel pain for years on.

She didn't remember her father much, but she knew they were extremely close when she was younger; she did recall the little things, however; like how he would take off his glasses whenever he would lie down in case he fell asleep. And Imogen loved when he would teach her how to walk up his legs until she grew too big. There was one night she could hear his screams and cries coming from down the hallway – this was about a week before he passed – but she just assumed he'd seen a spider on his pillow (since he was deathly afraid).

The girl drug her feet across the ice-cold floor, her slim fingers panicking against the damp cobwebbed wall to find the light switch. There were two things no one knew about Imogen Moreno; she was extremely petrified of the dark, and she hated every kind of pizza.

After finally coming across a light switch near the bottom of the staircase, Imogen heaved a sigh in relief as she began to feel safer in her own house. Whenever the darkness would close in on her, she felt as though someone was staring her down; never blinking. The air was heavy, and strange noises replayed over and over through her mind until her heartbeat started pounding through her warm ears. Her entire body would eventually grow numb and parlayed like she was bitten by a thousand poisoned snakes.

Is that what her life had become now? Full of nothing but fear and cries? If so, she didn't know if she wanted to live at all anymore. That masked demon – as everyone called it – could come get her, because at this point, she almost felt like giving up.

Finally, Imogen came across an old, dusty box with the word _journals _handwritten over the lid in black sharpie. This must've been another one of the boxes her mother had hidden from her after the death since she's never seen in before in her life. But as she looked closer, recent fingerprints were smeared in the dust across the sides of the box. This didn't stop her from lifting the lid and looking down inside of it.

Several tarnished and torn books were piled to the rim of the box; there must have been fifty of them. She applauded whomever it was that could complete fifty journals in their lifetime, since she's failed at every diary she's ever tried to keep; she could never get half-way through one.

Her shaky hand reached for the journal that sat on top and flipped it open to the inside cover. It was her father's writing; smooth and neat words printed into the paper. _"Journal #53" _it read.

Imogen turned the page of the brittle book; she read the first entry quietly to herself.

"_September 6__th__, 1995,_

_My dreams weren't so great tonight. I was standing in the middle of a beautiful meadow, bright flowers surrounding me. It was starting to rain down on me – lightly – but I didn't seem to mind it, I was too wrapped up in picking a bouquet of those beautiful flowers. I guess I was going to take them home to my wife, or maybe Jeanette, but then suddenly everything turned dark. The heavy storm clouds rolled in over my head and it began to pour; a haze of fog was at my feet and beyond, but I felt like I couldn't move. I saw the reflection of myself in a mirror that had appeared in front of me. But it didn't look like me. I can't explain it; there was an evil to this reflection."_

"_September 7__th__, 1995, _

_I've been having these dreams again. They always start out the same way, ending the same way as well. I keep dreaming about my daughter. The doctor says she's going to be born in about a month and a half. (Heidi wants to name her Chloe, but I particularly like the name Imogen.) But whenever I have these dreams, I hear this threatening sound like static on a radio being amplified through a thousand speakers, and it's rushing over my head in a pulse. Then I see this figure in the corner. I think it's my daughter, grown up. This figure is tall and skinny; I can't see its face, but its glowing red eyes – buried beneath a dark hood – draw me in. This…_ thing_ always moves toward me so majestically, like there's nothing in its way. I see a hint of dark brown hair peeking out from the hood, about the same length as mine. And it repeats these frightening words; _avete Satan dominus meus tenebrosa!_ I don't hear the words being said, but it's like whispers in my head. Am I going crazy? I'm going to watch over my daughter. Until the day I die, which I have a feeling will be fairly soon." _

She ripped through the pages of the leather-bound journal, her fingers flying over crimpled papers until she found a page that really stood out to her. The handwriting was rushed and messy – like chicken scratch – rather than the neat and flawless writing on the previous pages; like he'd been writing in the dark.

_"October 27__th__, 1995,_

_It's three in the morning, and I had just awoken from another nightmare, a puddle of blood bucketing from my nose. My head is thrashing but… I feel like there's something more to this. In my dream, the hooded figure returned; I haven't seen it in over a month. It was just staring at me, breathing heavily, with a lake of crimson liquid beneath its feet. I don't know what it means, but I need to find out soon."_

Hurriedly, Imogen pulled out her phone to check the date. _Thursday, October 27, 2011._

xxx

Tonight was finally the night; a party at Jake Martin's cabin in the woods, where only his closest friends were invited. Originally, an invitation was supposed to go out around Degrassi, but he figured there wouldn't be enough space in the cabin. However, there was plenty of room in the forest around the cabin.

_Too bad he would be missing Clare this evening. _

Even though Imogen and Jake weren't the closest of friends (they were more like enemies), Eli and him were pretty close. Since Eli knew how much Imogen has been stressing over everything lately, he invited her to be his date for the evening; she could use a night out of fun.

Imogen frolicked down the stairs, a large coat dropping down her legs to hide her party outfit. She'd asked one of the neighbours to watch her mother for the night while she was out "studying" with a bunch of her friends. It's not like her mom would be able to catch on to her little plan since she's been getting plastered before she even rolled out of bed this morning.

"Thank you for watching my mom tonight, Mrs. Torres," Imogen smiled at the older woman.

"It's not a problem. Just make sure Drew doesn't procrastinate tonight, he needs to get his grades up." Audra sat a plate of lasagna down on the counter behind her.

Drew must have claimed he was a part of the study group as well. Shit. Imogen still hasn't approached him since after he left her that rose; he obviously wanted a relationship and she was far from interested. "No worries. I'll be sure to push him as hard as I can until he finally understands Quadratics."

"Don't push him too hard," she teased with a wink. "I expect him to be returned in one piece."

"I can't guarantee that; math is _pretty _dangerous."

"Knowledge is power!" Audra returned with a fist pump.

Imogen smiled awkwardly at the peculiar female and slowly backed away to answer the door. She assumed it was Eli repeatedly banging on the entrance since he was over a half hour late; it's not like she was starting to get anxious to see him or anything. She opened up the door with a small smile, and sure enough, there stood Eli, dressed head-to-toe in all black. "Hey," she greeted softly before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her.

"You look exceptionally attractive tonight, Imo!" he retorted; he stared at Imogen's overly large coat questionably.

She let the coat drop to her ankles, revealing a unique, yet sexy lace dress which showered down to just above her knees. The entire piece of cloth was black, with the bottom skirt ripped and tipped with an assortment of bright colours. Pink, purple and blue neons complimented her legs strikingly. Up at the top was a corset-like style that hiked up the right amount of cleavage. Since the dress was made from lace, her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric.

Eli's jaw practically hit the ground when he saw her; his eyes never left her perky bosom. "Wow," he breathed. "You look… wow. You're going to a Halloween party, not a whore-house."

"Is it too much?" she asked with a frown; she glanced down at her outfit and sighed in disappointment. She really wanted to amaze everyone tonight; show them she could be much more than the 'weird girl in tights'. Imogen wanted to make a statement, look attractive for once for her birthday. "Maybe I should go change…"

"No!" Eli responded a bit too quickly.

"You look great. Beautiful. Breathtaking, even."

Imogen smiled shyly at him; she reached up to take the elastic band from her hair. "We should get to that party before they run out of food." Her hair showered down her shoulders like a gorgeous, silky waterfall, and she hid her face behind the long bronze curls.

Awkwardly, Eli stretched out his hand to grab Imogen's, which was enclosed by a black fingerless lace glove.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and her fingers and toes began to grow numb.

"Happy Sweet Sixteen, Immy,"

xxx

The drive to the cabin was quiet, yet comfortable.

It was dark within the woods; lightning bugs lit up the foggy night sky along with a trail of lanterns which sat on the ground, on either side of the forested walkway path. A wave of heavy rock music blared from the many speaker amplifiers sitting around the blazing fire pit, and a misty haze of grey smoke was being blown out of the central door of the cabin.

Partiers danced around the fire, and they chucked back their bottles of thick liquid, and all Imogen could think about was home. Being here tonight was precisely how her mother started out with her alcohol addiction; she was beginning to grow lightheaded. Imogen wanted nothing to do with her mom's type of lifestyle.

Eli noticed Imogen starting to grow uncomfortable, so he reached out to grab her hand again comfortingly. Only three people knew about Mrs. Moreno's addiction; Bianca, Jose and, of course, Eli – her only three friends.

The two walked toward the front door of the wooden cabin – hand in hand – to see if there was any food left to satisfy their hunger. Imogen's head started to spin around her when the warm scent of metal overturns burned at her nostrils; she squeezed Eli's hand uneasily. She's never been to a party even remotely close to what this was like, so she clearly had no idea what to expect when she came here. She never knew so many Degrassi students were into hardcore drugs and drinking like this.

Jake stumbled into Imogen's shoulder; his cold drink spilled down the front of her brand new dress. She let out a surprised gasp in return. "Oh! I'm so sorry Jake, I didn't mean –"

"—I didn't invite you," the tall boy snarled toward the shy teen who had freezing cold beer running down her chest.

"No, but I did," Eli answered quickly while Imogen was now scrubbing off the liquid from her stained dress manically. Some great sixteenth birthday she was having; now she would go home smelling like alcohol and have both Mrs. Torres and her mother on her ass.

"Your wretched lady friend here made me spill my beer." Jake's words were almost incoherent; saying he was already drunk off of his ass was undeniably an understatement. "Bitch!" he spat in Imogen's flushed face.

Eli scoffed, knocking the red solo cup from Jake's grasp to the ground, the rest of his drink sinking into the fresh dirt. "Oopsie." He wasn't going to let Jake treat Imogen the way he was, when it was his fault for not watching where his drunk self was going.

Jake's fists clenched at his sides, and he ran back into the woods without saying another word; soon enough he was lost in the dense mist of the fog.

"Are you alright?" Eli questioned Imogen after a moment.

"Just a little wet and sticky," she mumbled, still scrubbing off her birthday dress. It's not like it was helping anything, though; the tissues she kept stuffed in her purse were only tearing and sticking to the stain.

He guided her toward a fallen down tree over at the side of the cabin, where he lay out his jacket for her to sit down. Whatever the hell was going on with Jake was uncalled for; sure the love of his life had been missing for a few weeks, but he had no right to take it out on innocent people. If Jake wanted this party to be successful, he wasn't doing such a great job at being a good host. He wasn't acting like himself at all tonight and Eli didn't know what to think of one of his best friends anymore.

Imogen held her face in her hands; she tried to hold herself back from crying in front of everyone but she was so close to having a mental breakdown. The stress of a murderer going around Toronto, this said murderer stalking her, her mother being a complete bitch, and the load of work and school was too much to handle. Not to mention having strange feelings for two of her closest friends; she was surprised she hasn't ended up in a mental hospital by now.

Eli gently brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and grabbed her wrist; forcing her to look at him. "It's just a little spill, no need to get upset."

"It's not about that," she responded shakily. "I can't take all of this stress anymore."

"Is it about that letter?"

Imogen pinned her eyebrows together, and she looked down at the dark ground in confusion; she didn't remember telling anyone about that. "How do you know about the note?"

"You… told me," he laughed nervously. "Don't you remember?"

She shook her head and glanced over the crowd of people in front of her. She could have sworn she kept that piece of information to herself; or maybe she was so out of it lately that she was doing and saying things without any recognition of it happening. Imogen's seen that in many movies before, so it could make sense… right? "I guess so," she replied quietly. "There's no other way you could have known."

Eli heaved a relieved sigh and reached for Imogen's chest to help clean her up. "CeCe taught me a few tricks." He rolled his thumb over the damp fabric gently; Imogen watched his concentrated face as he did this. "For one thing, you're supposed to dab the stain, not rub." At this point, she'd already completely blocked out everything he was saying; she found herself moving closer to him. "There's probably some baking soda in the cabin. You could borrow one of Jake's shirts while it's soaking; it really won't take long."

Imogen touched the back of Eli's hand with her cold fingertips, which caused him to look up and meet her gaze. Her fingers intertwined with his and she slowly motioned his hand down so it was now on her breast. "We can find a way to pass the time," she whispered lowly as she inched her face closer to his. She let go of his hand and placed it on the inside of his warm thigh.

Eli gulped; they'd both forgotten about the possibility of a hundred eyes being on the two of them. "What's gotten into you?"

"I just want to forget about all of the pain in the world for one moment."

"I don't know if I can help with that."

Imogen's soft, desirable lips brushed against his teasingly. "Sure you can. It's easy."

With that, Eli's aching lips captured hers quickly. This was Imogen's first kiss; tonight she wasn't going to give a single care in the world. She just wanted to feel loved once in her fucked up life. Her time was running out anyway, so there's no better time than tonight.

Jose was watching off in the distance; acid tears burned at his eyes and his whole body shook with anger. Why didn't he step in sooner with Imogen? He was supposed to be her fist, not that smug bastard. "Are you alright, dude?" Drew and Owen questioned in unison.

"Just fucking peachy," Jose growled.

"You look like you're going to throw up. Was it the chips?" Wesley joined in.

Jose rolled his dark brown eyes. "Fuck off, curly."

**The next chapter shall continue at the party. :) there's still more characters coming in, and someone will get shaked. Woo! **


	4. untainted

**Finally a new chapter! And I've been starving myself for several hours to finish this. xD I can't wait to go eat after updating. Anywho, I should put a warning in here. **

**Mild violence, references to alcohol, and sexual content will be included in this chapter**

Drinks were continued to be served around the party; everyone in the clammy atmosphere was downing as many drinks as possible, before they found themselves heaving up one or two cups of warm liquid and stomach acid behind an unlucky tree. But even so, they would wipe their lips and grab another cup of their favourite party drink.

Jake was still hidden out in the woods somewhere after Katie had run after him to see what was going on. He wasn't normally this big of an asshole, but he's been under so much stress lately with Clare's disappearance that he didn't know what to do with himself.

He was running through the woods with a large gust of wind blowing against him to make it challenging for him; tears were stinging at his eyes but he kept himself to not let one fall. He was hammered, and he could barely see the trees around him without thinking they were dancing for him. How many beers did he have? He lost track after twenty.

"Jake!" a female's voice shouted behind him; he figured it was just something carrying in the wind until he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. "Jake," Katie whispered half out of breath. She's been chasing him for the last five minutes, trying to catch up with him. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

"I'm with you now, aren't I?" she could scarcely make out any of his words – he was clearly highly intoxicated.

"Isn't this where all of those people went missing?" she asked his as her spinning head leisurely glanced around the shadowed trees. The moon vanished behind a heavy sheet of grey clouds so it was darker than it's ever been before.

Jake lazily threw her hand off of his shoulder and continued staggering forward. He didn't care if that murderer came after him – he didn't give two fucks if he were to die at this very moment; he just wanted the pain and emptiness to subside. Ever since he moved to this shitty place, he's been trying to make himself happy (or at least set off that image to everyone), but he didn't think he would be getting over these traumatic events anytime soon. First his mom died, and now Clare is probably buried in these very woods, right beneath his feet.

Unsure of her actions, Katie followed Jake further into the woods. She didn't feel comfortable with staying in this place any longer, but she didn't want to be alone either. "I think we should go back to the party," she spoke up after a while. Her voice was raw and trembling, but she didn't once mention how afraid she was of being out here in the dark.

The fog grew thicker, and they could just barely see their own feet now but Jake didn't seem to mind a bit. Though, peeking out from one of the bulky tree trunks was what looked to be a person wearing a black hood. Katie tried her best to ignore this person, but Jake stared long and hard at the figure; they didn't move. This was beginning to feel like all of those stories that were on the news, and suddenly Katie's chest hurt whenever she tried to breathe. She intertwined her shaky fingers with Jake's, though, and stayed close to his side as they waddled closer and closer to the man in all black.

Why hadn't they turned back by now?

The party could almost not be heard now; nothing but a few excited shrieks, and muffled beats of the heavy rap music could be made out. The smell of wet pine and maple from the previous thunderstorm – that had hit just hours before people started rolling up to the party – tingled at Katie's nostrils. But there was something strange about this; the pieces to the puzzle didn't seem to fit.

When she looked behind her, two other hooded men had closed in around the two innocent party-goers. The first one dressed in black looked feminine, the second one behind them was heavier than the others, while the one in front of the two was pretty well-built. These people could easily be exposed as any student from Degrassi if it weren't so dark in these damn woods.

The first man jumped out from behind the tree and tore Katie away from Jake; it wasn't too difficult since Jake's reflexes were completely shot tonight, and Katie was too frightened to understand what was happening. She let out a loud scream; the coldness of a razor sharp blade was being pressed against her throat. What had she done? She didn't understand what the hell was going on with her, but she would do anything to get this to stop.

She would do anything to spare her own life.

"Why are you doing this?" She cried hysterically; a mixture of tears and heavy black mascara were streaming down her moist cheeks.

The other two men grabbed a hold of either of Jake's arms, but he didn't seem to put up much of a fight.

According to what's been said on the news, there was only one 'masked demon', so neither of them knew what the fuck was happening at this very moment. The only thoughts that ran through their heads was the fact that they were going to die at any second. And they didn't know how okay they were with that. Ten minutes ago, Jake was planning on a natural suicide, but now that death was staring him right in the eyes he didn't know how to deal. He stayed strong, though, for Katie; her eyes never left his no matter what was happening with her. She was in way too much shock to attempt moving.

Behind Jake was the muffled sound of laughter; when the two behind him let go of his arms, he almost sighed in relief. He was still too confused to move, so all he could do was stare at the hooded men with wide eyes. Was he going to die tonight?

In unison, the two men who had grabbed ahold of him peeled off their black ski masks and their hoods. Standing before him were Mo Mashkour and Adam Torres in a fit of uncontrollable laughs. "You should have… seen your… face!" Adam shouted in hysterics. He was roaring so loudly that tears were now falling from his eyes.

"You guys are such assholes!" Jake screamed angrily, forcefully shoving the two guys back a few steps.

"Dude, chill, it was just a prank," Mo cackled.

"_Just _a prank?" Jake scoffed. "Look at Katie," he turned around to face the trembling girl. "I think you gave the poor thing a heart attack."

Katie was still crying, still unaware of what was going on around her. "Can you please let go of me?"

"Who is that anyway?" Jake questioned. "Owen? Drew, maybe?"

Mo sighed heavily and removed his dark jacket to sling it over his broad shoulder. Another Degrassi prank gone terribly wrong. He didn't know why Jake was so upset, though; it's not like he hasn't joined in with pulling his own pranks. In fact, he was the greatest prankster at Degrassi since some guy named Joey Jeremiah. "Dallas, man, let her go," the larger student instructed; Mo must have been the leader of this fun little prank session. It didn't surprise Jake in the least bit.

The man, who Jake assumed to be Dallas, shook his head instead. He wasn't wearing a ski mask like the others, but it was still hard to make out his face in this complete darkness. In response, the hooded figure slashed the knife across Katie's throat in quick movements and let her fall to the ground. Whoever this was cut her in a main artery; blood was spurting everywhere, and she was choking on her own bodily fluids.

"What the fuck did you do?" Mo screamed.

Adam and Jake soared down to Katie's side, each of them putting pressure on her wound. She didn't look like she was going to make it much longer; if she did, it must have been a one in a thousand chance of her pulling through overnight.

The man took off, sprinting back toward the party as he tore pieces of his outfit off on the way there. He could blend in with anyone from that crowd without anyone noticing a single damn thing going on around them.

Dallas returned from the opposite direction and stared down at a suffering Katie. "What is going on here?"

"Dude, where were you?"

"I went to go pee and heard screaming! Who did this?"

"You're meaning to tell me this wasn't you?" Adam bawled. He and Katie had grown extremely close to each other over the last year that it was insane; he was about to ask her if she would go out on a date with him. He didn't know how that was going to work out if she was fucking dead.

Dallas ripped off his ski mask to hold onto Katie's cold hand. He's never had one decent conversation with this girl, but he still cared enough to know she might die at any moment. "How could I have done this when I was taking a fucking whiz?"

xxx

Eli led the girl into the back bedroom; with the heel of his shoe, he slammed the door shut behind them. Their lips didn't dare to part for the slightest second; they were too wrapped up in the moment to even think. The _boom _of the music consumed the musky, isolated room – layers of dust showered each inch of furniture, clearly not having been slept in for quite a while.

In the corner sat a small mahogany table, a vase full of wilted – once red – roses sat atop of yet another coating of fifth.

The peach coloured curtains glowed faintly with the stationary light from the radiant orange moon.

As Eli lagged his tender lips down Imogen's clammy neck, she caught a glimpse of the two of them in a shattered mirror on the East wall. The shards had fallen to the hardwood floor in thin splinters; it must have been left this way for a moderately long time.

She saw her heavy brown eyes staring back at her, shadowed; her jaw was quivering intensely as goosebumps shot up the backs of her arms. Imogen continued to gaze into her reflection while Eli led her back to the squeaky bed. She grimaced at her distorted, unpleasant reflection and turned her face back for her lips to land on Eli's once again.

His gentle hands roamed over her delicate body; the warmth from her skin was scorching against his trembling palms.

Eli pulled away softly to look over her beautiful figure; his eyes wandered over the smooth shapes of her thighs beneath the thin, revealing dress. He rolled his thumb over the curve of her flushed cheek, and made his way down to trace his fingers over the mold of her bottom lip. His thoughts were running wild, and he didn't know how to control what he was feeling. Should he be doing this? They've been best friends for over a year – one simple mistake could ruin everything they've had together. They've been through so much. He shook his head to clear his mind. Not the most appropriate time for such thoughts. She was so young; younger than he is. And he wanted her.

She lifted his hand; clamping her moist lips around his index finger. She kissed it and slithered her grazing teeth over the flesh. Her lips found their way to his wrist where she sunk her teeth into softly. Her heart was racing; her thoughts were in a clutter as she tried to hold herself together. This was the closest she's ever been to anything remotely sexual.

Her hands reached up and grasped his bicep firmly, pushing up his sleeve as her tongue teased at the inside of his elbow. She began to make soft mewling sounds and he watched her with half-lidded eyes. He was unable to pull back from her, his erection felt large and pulsing against the roughness of his skinny jeans.

Her lips moved speedily from his elbow to his neck, and the touch of her hot breath on his chilled skin shot through his mind. Imogen's lips were at his neck now, and she bit down just above his collarbone; letting her tongue sweep over his sweet tasting skin.

His fingers tangled around her hair, taking fistfuls of the luscious locks to hold her lips just there; his soft spot. But she refused, and brought her plump lips back up to his jaw. She lingered there teasingly for a moment, and brushed her lips over his jawbone.

He could feel her large breasts pressed up against his stiff chest, and his fingers opened, letting go of her smooth hair. Eli lost control of his hands; letting them slowly roam down the perfection of Imogen's curves. Her thighs and her hips, all the way up to the sides of her plump breasts. He could feel his skin brushing against her hardened nipple through the fabric of her stained dress. He cupped her, and Imogen continued to lay kisses over the crook of his neck. "Eli," she whispered pleasingly against his warm neck.

She was shaking beneath his touch, but she didn't object to the matter of his curious hands.

Imogen unsteadily glided her palms up the hind of Eli's muscle shirt, tossing her head back to let him tease her neck with his piercing teeth. She whispered his named for the second time, her eyes fluttering shut. "I'm nervous," she admitted through an intense outtake of air.

His thoughts were still rushing around his head dizzily, everything heading into a hundred different directions at once. This night was the perfect mixture of intimacy and lust.

He elevated his head to caress her cheek with his jaw softly. "I'll take care of you; it's alright." He was speaking in a low, genuine voice.

Eli gently tugged back her hair with his free hand, being careful not to hurt her. He stared into her warm chocolate eyes. Those eyes which made his heart skip a beat or two whenever he looked into them. She was the most beautiful human being he's ever seen walk by him; he wanted her all to himself. He thought he had never seen anything so gorgeous before he met this girl.

Imogen moaned, and she let her hand drop to the crotch of his jeans. What she was asking for was entirely too much for her to handle, but she couldn't say she didn't love disobeying herself. She stroked him through his pants, and the pressure she was giving him was an exquisite anguish.

Their lips met together again, and they roamed each other's mouths with the warmness of their tongues; filling each other up.

She trembled underneath him and placed her pale hands on either sides of his delicate face. So soft, so beautiful; even some of the most destructive monsters were breakable.

Eli pressed her back down onto the bed, hovering over her as they both swiftly worked on his belt.

Imogen whimpered once more; loving the closeness of Eli's gratifying body on top of her. Her motions became more frantic until she finally unhooked the taunting belt and tossed it to the floor. Eli unzipped his fly for her, and pinned her wrists above her head to kiss her more.

He dipped his face back down to wrap his lips loosely around her glowing flesh. "You taste like cherries." His mouth curled up into a sweet beam against her clammy skin, trailing his fingers down along her delicate arm. "You're so soft… stunning."

Eli continued to kiss her. He provoked her subtle lips with his own rigidly, her neck, collarbone, finally making his way down to her heaving chest that so desperately desired to be attended to.

After letting up on her wrists, Imogen had somehow slithered out of her dress and boy shorts; she was lying naked for all to see. And for once, she didn't care. She used to be so embarrassed of her body that he wouldn't even look at herself in the mirror. But being here with Eli… she felt safe. Something inside her tingled and she knew she could trust him with this huge step she was willing to take. She couldn't imagine being with anyone else at this very moment.

_Except for Jose._

Imogen wrapped her legs around Eli's waist and pulled his jeans, along with his boxers, down to his ankles; her loud gasp filled the soundless room when she felt his warmness against her thigh.

He stroked her cheek again; biting his lip as he examined her shivering body. They were both frustrated… reluctant. Both of them were waiting for the other to make their move.

Eli had only been with one other girl over two years ago; he was unsure if he still knew what he was supposed to do since he didn't know Imogen's body very well. He would never admit that to anyone; being it's the most embarrassing thing any guy could ever admit.

Even through all of the fear and feelings of hopelessness, all Imogen could do was smile reassuringly at him; she wanted this, and she didn't care what kind of girl that made her. At least she could feel loved for one split moment; that's all she wanted in the world, and this was the best way for her to get exactly what she wanted.

She took hold of his shaft nervously and straddled him, guiding him to her center before she paused. Was she really okay with this? Losing her virginity to her best friend at a high school party?

"If you're not ready…" Eli trailed off, Imogen responding with a heavy sigh.

"Just… can you start?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Eli," she smiled with impatience. "I'm more than sure."

Tentatively, he pressed against her sensitive spot, she seemed hot – nothing he'd ever felt before. His nerves were begging him to go further, and his thick, warm blood was rushing through his veins. He glided into her and it seemed like the most untainted sensation he's ever experienced.

Imogen, though, didn't seem to agree. She hissed in pain when he moved, but she didn't tell him to stop. She didn't want him to stop. She dug her fingernails into his back, instructing him to move faster inside of her. She cried. And begged for him to never let her go. She let the pain prickle against her aching walls and met her thrust with his; soon enough she began to moan, abruptly and loudly.

Everything was going too fast for her to comprehend what was going on around her. But she felt good. She felt loved. She couldn't help but to smile widely under him as he thrashed into her, each of their breaths rasping. It was a mixture of agony and pleasure; yelps and moans, but she didn't want it to stop.

Eli's face dropped into the girl's shoulder, gliding himself into her as pure pleasure shivered up his spine and through his entire body with every movement. He was biting into her flesh to suppress what he desperately wanted to cry out; he's never felt this amazing when he was with Julia.

The sounds she was making made him almost lose it, but he held on for her, letting his hips buck exasperatingly. He could feel nearly every inch inside of the delicate girl; glossy and intensely hot.

Imogen could feel Eli's hot breath radiating against her skin, and she clung onto him tighter. They were both enveloped in the feeling, each of them experiencing their own type of heat; Imogen cringing every once in a while from the sharp spikes plunging into her tissue.

Eli pulled back a bit to watch her face; her breathing was becoming more and more erotic like demons, her mouth gaping open and her eyes pinched shut in bliss. His thrusts become longer and faster, he couldn't help but to stare at her gorgeous face carved into perfection as he did this.

She gripped his body and arched her back as they moved together. Her nails dig into his skin, leaving red scrapes down his back. His movements increased even faster. The bed was screeching and jerking beneath them; the headboard pounded against the wall like a quickened heartbeat. She threw her head back into the pillow, letting out a deep yelp from the back of her rough throat. He cried out with her, Imogen's legs shuddering beneath Eli's as she reached her end. It wasn't a second later until Eli crashed down atop of her.

Their breathing slowly regained back to normal; Eli was almost already half asleep when the door to the bedroom slammed open.

"Get off of her!" a thick voice roared.

**Eli didn't use a condom. That fucker. D: I was writing this all day and actually came up with more to end this chapter. BUT I felt like I should end it in a cliffhanger since I'm a hobo. **


End file.
